


Don’t you ever wonder what could have been?

by SeaShellSakura



Series: IY/PoT drabbles [2]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale, Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Angst, Regret, remembering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27570580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaShellSakura/pseuds/SeaShellSakura
Summary: It has been nearly a year since she’s seen Keigo.
Series: IY/PoT drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981949





	Don’t you ever wonder what could have been?

They meet again in the cold winter of their second year in high school, somewhere in the flutter leading up to the new year. Kagome shivers in her pink silk dress and takes another stiff turn in Akashi’s practiced hold, trying not to stab his feet in her four inch heels. It would probably be unwise, no matter how tempting.

She meets Atobe’s eyes entirely by accident. They are dark and clear as she remembers, when she had watched him and a boy she had hated on a court she loved, watched the sun gleam off his silver hair and his opponent’s glasses catch and glitter. His game had been beautiful then, for all his pomposity — sheer power and precision and infinite control. She finds she misses the intensity in his expression. He looks away first.

Akashi-kun notices her stiff shoulders and guides her to a table, letting her sit down. He smiles faintly down at her, hair ablaze in the light of the chandelier above them, and Kagome feels almost guilty for being as annoyed with him as she is — only she doesn’t, because he won’t leave her alone. The dozens of glares she receives in payment for his presence prick into her skin.

* * *

Sometimes, she wonders where it all went wrong. Middle school had been — it had been amazing, honestly, and she had never wanted it to end.

But end it did, and High school was for a while almost exactly the same. But something had changed, fundamentally, the those months, and she couldn’t put her finger on what — the team was closer than ever before, but there was something new in the air, in the quality of Keigo’s smiles, and how they warmed her skin even thinking about them now.

Then Inuyasha came along, and everything went to hell.

* * *

People sometimes ask about the scars. The four puncture wounds down each arm — they were from a school play, she tells them, someone got overenthusiastic about the props. The ones on her hands are easier — she broke a jar this time, and everyone knows about her archery. Mostly, she’s glad there are almost none on her legs, so that she can wear her uniform without any problem.

The largest scars — there is the remnant of Mistress Centipede’s bite, nicely healed into an almost _pretty_ star on her waist. There are several long ones on her shoulders and arms, from the time she had to crawl through poisonous thorn bushes to retrieve a wounded, terrified Shippou. But the largest — the largest are a set of deep horizontal scars across her back, with a single circular region in the centre that passes all the way to the front of her chest. They are Inuyasha’s parting gift, tearing one of Naraku’s tentacles from her body.

She had survived that day. Inuyasha had not.  
  
  


* * *

She wants to apologise sometimes, for goodness knows what, wants to beg him to just acknowledge her again, to let things go back to how they had been.

But that would be worse, because Atobe does not forget, and Keigo rarely forgives, and he _hates_ people who beg. It would be worse, she thinks, if his indifference turned to _scorn_.

She doesn’t have anything to apologise for. She did not _belong_ to him, and he had never belonged to her. She had made her decisions, she had made her bed. It was up to her to sleep in it, now.


End file.
